


JohnLock Prompts/Short Fics

by IsurvivedReichenbach221B



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angry Ball throwing, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, First Meetings, Greg is a bit of a dick, John is a dick, M/M, Molly is pissed, Sherlock gets kicked out of a car, Sherlock got hot over summer, Stag Night, beginning of the year interview, crappy pick-up line, cute fluffballs, dam puns, implied previous crushes, pretty much everyone is a dick, sherlock is a dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsurvivedReichenbach221B/pseuds/IsurvivedReichenbach221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is a new prompt, additional tags will be given when necessary. So far no smut, though I'm not against it. Going off of Tumblr prompts, currently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Subway Sandwich Soulmate

**Author's Note:**

> Sandwich AU prompt from Tumblr: your soulmate is whoever gets their Subway sandwich the same as you.

John always got it with meatballs and shredded cheese. He loved it the most with spinach leaves and the cheese melted. It was even better if his honey bread was fresh out the oven. Never had he found someone who at it perfectly like that. Never in his years. Sighing, he slipped into the booth mid-way on the side wall of the building.  
Unwrapping his sandwich he settled to eat his food when a man strode into the small building. He paused, half of his sandwich raised from the table as he watched the man, who looked simply _ravishing_.

  
The man was in a heavy coat that hit the back of his knees as he strode with an air of superiority. Dark locks of hair curled atop his head, seemingly unruly. John’s eyes were drawn to his sharp eyes that shot around the building, landing on him for a fraction of a second before he ordered his sandwich. John, holding his breath, listened for what he would order. No one ever ordered anything different once they’d found their true sandwich. This man was old enough to finally know his.

  
“I’ll have... Is your honey bread fresh?” He tapped a gloved hand against the glass case. The lady behind the counter seemed a bit stunned at the man who had just walked in but she turned and nodded the affirmative. John perked up, sandwich put down and attention drawn to this dark stranger. “I’ll take a foot long.”

  
“Okay, what would you like on it?” John turned in his seat, resting his hand on the back of the booth where his hand dangled on the other side. Sure, it was a really long shot that this man would order the same. There’s thousands of things he could get on his sandwich. Why would this man that he’s never seen before order meatballs?

  
“I’ll take meatballs.” John licked his lips, shooshing his breathing that gained a hitch. Telling himself meatballs were normal. “With shredded cheese and before you add the cheese, put spinach on it, if you will? I desire it all to be warm enough for the cheese to be melted.” John tightened his grip on the back of the booth and his hand came up to his face, wiping it. Oh, god, order something else. Order, like, barbecue on it!

  
“Will that be all?”

“Yes.” He waved a hand at her, eyes shooting to the door almost like he was anxious to get moving. John couldn’t feel his toes.

“Just like before, you must be happy, he’s a rather cute boy.” The woman behind the counter said and John felt red flush his face. Cute?

The stranger whipped his head so fast back to her John was sure he had whiplash.

“Excuse me?” The deep, amazing voice slipped out in a clipped manner and John figured he was flustered. The woman behind the counter pointed at John.

“That man just order the exact same thing. Melted cheese and all.” John blushed even harder, though he sat up straighter and cleared his throat as the stranger turned. Fantastic eyes a color he couldn’t name locked on him and his facial features were blank. John waited, nearly breathless, as the sub sandwich finished and the lady gave over the sub. The stranger broke contact to pay and snatched his sandwich. For a moment it seemed like he didn’t know what to do and last minute he pivoted and turned towards John. John, still watching the man, gave a soft smile as the stranger slipped into the booth.

“Sherlock Holmes.” The stranger said, offering out his gloved hand. John nodded, taking the hand. The hand shake was solid and stern, as collected as the stranger himself. John smiled as Sherlock did the same, both lips twitching in some humour between them.

“John Watson. It’s nice to meet you.”


	2. Crappy Pick-Up Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth or Dare while drinking leads to Greg being a bit of a dick and shoving Sherlock out of his comfort box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU prompt from Tumblr: Sherlock has been dared to pick up a random stranger (John) with a crappy pick up line. John can either react by taking pity on Sherlock or dropping a drink down his shirt, you decide.

Sherlock and Greg sat in the stools at their own table, Sherlock a moping mess. They’d started playing this stupid game and Sherlock was by far done with it. He was far too intoxicated to have said yes to this. Greg had asked truth or dare and Sherlock had gone along with it and two truths in he’d said dare and regretted it almost immediately.

“Come on, you promised you would!” Greg tapped his foot on the bar under Sherlock’s stool.

“You didn’t tell me you’d bring other people into this.” He eyed the male Greg had pointed to, telling him that was the man he had to go woo. He had to pull this off with a sappy, stupid pick-up line. Regular pick-up lines didn’t work, what made Greg think this plan would work? “It’s likely the man will punch me in the face.”

“Good, you deserve it your right bastard.”

“You’re going to let some random stranger possibly hit me?”

“You’ve had random strangers hit you before, Sherlock this will be no different.”

“Mm,” he thought it was rather different but he figured he’d keep that thought to himself. With a grimace, he stood from the table. He wanted nothing to do with this. God dammit. Greg smirked and leaned back, waving Sherlock on as the man looked back.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock huffed and slipped up beside the man. He had sandy blonde hair, rather handsome, but Sherlock wanted nothing to do with him at this moment. If he could throw this man out the front door, he would be perfectly okay with doing this.

Clearing his throat, he plastered a smile on his face. The male turned around, raising a brow as he looked Sherlock up and down. Sherlock figured he might as well get it the hell over with, regardless of the fact that this strangers face was nearly too stunning for his intoxicated brain to handle at the moment, and waved a hand in the air.

“I have $30 in my pocket you can have.” Sherlock started and the stranger raised his brows, angling his body towards Sherlock out of curiosity.

“Oh? What would that be for?”

“So you can drink until I look attractive enough.” The detective cringed even at himself. God, he was horrible at this, but to be honest the point was a horrible pick-up line. The stranger blinked at him, almost too rapidly to be comfortable, before smirking.

“Did you think of that on your own, bud?” He asked, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder to the man at the far table having horrible trouble not laughing loud enough to get attention.

“It was a dare, actually. That I could pick you up.” Sherlock snorted at that and the stranger smirked.

“You’re drunk, aren't you?”

“A little tipsy but not drunk enough to not remember your face in the morning.” _Oh, fuck, that wasn’t supposed to come out._

The stranger tossed his head back in a hearty laugh before grabbing Sherlock’s chin and giving a rather chaste kiss. “There, take that back to your friend and tell him you’d win if I didn’t have work in the morning.”

Sherlock, stunned, nodded and licked his lips, tasting the other male on his own lips. He pulled from the table and before he left, the stranger gave him a card with a name and number on it. “John Watson.” and he brought it to Greg who was more stunned than he ever would admit to in the morning.


	3. No Case Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using a part from the TV series, I adapted it to be a bit JohnLock. Sherlock has no case and is being dreadfully irritating to John who just wants to have a calm evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU prompt from Tumblr: so what about a Johnlock thing where Sherlock is frustrated because he can’t find a relationship he’s comfortable in because he always feels uncomfortable around other people but John is the only one he can relax with so he ends up cuddling with John then maybe it becomes a relationship??  
> (This did not end up like I thought it would but I still think it fits?)

Sherlock paced back and forth, back and forth. It was driving John outright mad. He was willing to strangle the detective at any moment.

“Sherlock, for god’s sake, will you calm down! You just finished a case!”

“But I need another one!” He threw himself into the chair across from John and the man, on his computer, huffed at Sherlock and narrowed his gaze at the detective.

“Lestrade?”

“He hasn’t texted back.”

“When did you text him last?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“That’s not long. You have to give it time.”

“Boring.” He threw his hands up into the air shortly before he threw himself up into the air. He was nervous, on edge. He’d had a date last night but he hadn’t told John that. There was no point in telling him when Sherlock felt no need to ever seen the man he’d been on the date with. They hadn’t hit it off right away, in fact Sherlock didn’t feel anything while the other male seemed intrigued. At least, until Sherlock did his “deduction thing” and the date ended in the ruins it had started in.

Sherlock went to the desk and rummaged around as if he were looking for something. In truth, what he was looking for was human, physical contact. He couldn’t get it, however, because he hated everyone. They were all stupid and the all made him nervous and twitchy. After making a bigger mess of his desk than before he threw himself back into the chair. John glared at him over the top of the computer and Sherlock leveled a look at him.

While staring each other down, Sherlock started to drum his fingers on the armchairs.

“Go find out what happened to the sink in the bathroom! I’m sure you’re the one that did something with it.” John suggested but Sherlock tossed his head exaggeratedly with a huff.

“No! That’s not a case! I know what happened. It’s not the same thing.” Sulking, he slipped low into the chair. “Can I have one?”

“No, you’ve been doing good.”

“Play Cluedo with me?”

“Sherlock... I’m not playing Cluedo with you.”

“Why?”

“You know why! How long as it been since you texted Lestrade!” He pushed the laptop onto the coffee table and leaned toward Sherlock who glanced at the clock, legs thrumming.

“Six.. And a half minutes ago.”

“You’re driving me crazy. Go do something.” He reached for the laptop again but Sherlock shoved from the chair and shoved John’s hands out of the way. Shocked, John let himself get pushed into the back of the chair as the detective and all his bones curled up in John’s lap.

Eyes wide, he hung his arms to the sides, wrapping Sherlock in a hold simply to keep the man from falling backwards.

“Okay?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.” Slowly, John pulled Sherlock closer and cuddled with the man. Sherlock wrapped his hands around John’s chest, both bodies shifting to get more comfortable and Sherlock buried his face in the doctors neck with a soft, pleased noise.


	4. Midnight Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock pissed Molly off at a winter dance and John picks him up with the promise of not being a murderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU prompt from Tumblr: my frenemy kicked me out of the car in the middle of nowhere and you’re the first car to pass by in an hour. i may or may not be passing out from dehydration au  
> (I took out the dehydration because I wanted it to be in the cold so I replaced it with freezing toes and fingers.)

Sherlock stepped out into the cold. Okay, he had to admit he had this one coming. He could see his breath already and he chuckled.

“Okay, haha, you made your point. Molly you let me back in the car.” He nudged a tire but she reached over and slammed the door closed.

“No! You’re a royal dick, Sherlock, and you can’t keep using my emotions like this!” He’d been the reason her date had left her stranded on the dance floor... Again. School dances were stupid, anyway. But he figured they were important to her. Apparently.

“Molly! I said I was sorry!”

“If you aren’t right now, you will be!” She called as she pushed on the gas and the car bolted down the street. It was dark out, chillier than during the day and he already felt chills. Sighing, he checked his phone. Not one for calls, he texted Lestrade and grumped as the man didn’t respond even though Sherlock _knew_ he was awake still. After a few moments of no response he stuffed his phone back in his pocket and decided that to keep warm he had to keep moving.

This is how he was an hour later, trudging through the grass that already had dew on it. Huffing, he had his arms wrapped around himself, his toes tingling in his shoes. He had long given up the hope that she would turn around and come back for him.

There hadn’t been one car passing by this whole time so when he heard the unmistakable sound of rubber on the road he paused, whipping around and sticking out a cold thumb. The headlights slowed, shinning into his eyes like the blinding messiah. Thankfully, or maybe, not so thankfully depending on who is behind the wheel, the vehicle stops.

It’s a nice little car, from what Sherlock can tell. He strides as confidently as the chill in his bones lets him up to the window as it’s rolled down. Blond hair and sparkling blue eyes meet him.

“Hey... You’re Sherlock.. Right?”

Sherlock stiffens, trying to remember where he’s seen this boy before. Where, where... Where... OH! In school. They were... Classmates? Same age? Maybe. The boy looks not very tall but bulky in the shoulders. Probably sports for a brain.

“Yes...” He ventured and the boy wiggled his hand.

“What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death.”

“Molly kicked me out of her car.”

“Hooper?”

“Yes.” The boy chuckled and Sherlock was tempted to huff and walk away, take his chances with the cold.

“Yeah.. The only one who can deal with you, so I’ve heard. The name’s..”

“John Watson.” Sherlock suddenly remembered, cutting the boy off. John slowly nodded, seeming amazed for but a moment.

“Yeah.. That seems a bit... Obvious.” He gave a soft chuckle. “Hey, come on. It’s freezing and my heater is running. I won’t bite.”

“I’m not worried about you biting.” Sherlock stated flatly, a bit harsh, but John didn’t even flinch.

“Then you won’t mind me taking you back to.. Wherever you need to go.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked John up once more, taking a sweet amount of time before deciding he would rather die a horrible death than freeze. At least it wouldn’t be boring. He pulled the handle and slipped into the car. John reached in front of him, fixing all the heater vents to Sherlock and turning it up about half way.

“You can’t start it out really hot otherwise you’ll shock your system.”

“I’m aware.”

“Okay.”

They sat in silence as John started the car and Sherlock spread out his fingers over the vents. He started shivering harder, teeth chattering. He closed his eyes to try and will himself to stop but couldn’t quiet pull it off.

“You have to tell me where you live.” John prompted softly, reaching over and touching Sherlock gently on the shoulder. Sherlock didn’t start, but he did open his eyes and look at where the boy was touching him. Their eyes locked for a moment before John had to look at the road. Sherlock swallowed, wiggling his frozen toes.

“Take.. A left up here,” he started and soon they were in front of a rather nice house. John made a noise of appreciation. Sherlock shot him a look that said to keep his trap shut.

“If you... If Molly ever kicks you out again...” John cleared his throat, seemingly unsure what to say. Sherlock blinked at him, shifting.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, John, okay?”

“I’ll save a spot... At lunch?” John ventured and Sherlock smirked. Sure, why not?

“Okay.”

“Okay.”


	5. Summer Sprouting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of a new school year and Sherlock grew into himself over the summer but this isn't the only reason John is throwing a Medicine Ball at Sherlock's head during gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU prompt from Tumblr: “we’ve always hated each other but shit son this summer you got really hot. what are my friends going to say” au (This went too far sorrynotsorry I am really horrible at prompts they never end up the way it seems they should. My crap writes itself I'm so sorry just please enjoy~)

Sherlock is nothing short of a right arsehole. Ever since he’d moved to town five years ago in their youth, John and Sherlock couldn’t see eye to eye. To be honest, the whole school didn’t see eye to eye with Sherlock. Ever since they had been partners on a project in PE, however, John had found it rather irritating to deal with Sherlock’s stupid “deductions” and hateful ways toward the world.

When summer had started, John had loved it basically for the lack of Sherlock in his life. He spent it playing at the beach and skate park with his mates, Greg and Mike along with a handful of other kids that generally loved to have a fantastic time.

By the time school showed back up, Sherlock’s glaring eyes and razor sharp tongue were out of the boys mind. First day of school, however, brought it crashing down when he could hear the unmistakable timbre of that voice down the hall. Rolling his eyes, he focused on the signing sheet of Football. He wanted to get on the team again this year, hopefully make captain. The cheerleaders were pretty but he was unsure how he felt about them anyhow. Chicks were complicated creatures.

“John!” Mike called to him from the crowd and John finished putting his name and then quickly scribbled Mike’s under his.

“Hey! Long time no see!” He clapped his friend on the back, pointing down to the name he’d scribbled and Mike groaned. He was less athletic, more for the sciences, but he didn’t complain past the groan.

“What has it been? A day?” They chuckled as they moved farther through the crowd away from the table and John caught sight of a tall mop of curly hair. Okay, so Sherlock had gotten taller. Most people did. He refused to look that direction again and led Mike to where the lockers would be. Now that they were getting up there in years they got their own lockers. Thank god.

Mike was about a dozen away from John and Greg was right next to Molly who was far too busy with her head in a book to notice. Trust her to be studying the first day of school.  
John pushed his bag into the locker and readied to go when he caught another glimpse of Sherlock. The boy emerged from the crowd with a bag slung over his shoulder and John is sure his jaw hits the floor. The man is tall, always had been but now he seemed less of a string bean. He had sharp cheek bones that looked so much more amazing than John ever thought could be possible for mere bones. Not to mention those eyes that had always been brilliant, despite how much John hated him he had to admit Sherlock was a genius, albeit a dick of a one, were locked right on him. But only for a moment.

“There’s no way I’m having a locker next to you.” He snorted out the words, his voice a deeper timbre than even earlier. John shook sense back into his head as Sherlock reached past him and opened up the locker next to John’s. Mike and Greg, not helpful at all, stayed back with not a syllable said between the two of them. John glared but then smoothed out a look of less serious nature to his face.

“Then I suppose you should get that sharp brain of yours and go do something about it.” He snapped and Sherlock shot a glare at him, not even bothering to put his stuff in the locker before spinning and walking away. John felt nearly shell-shocked by the experience and Greg tapped him in the face.

“Look alive, it’s going to be much harder to deal with him after his brother got the job in government.” Greg murmured and Mike smacked the flat of his hand to his face.  
“Good god, as if the kid doesn’t have enough reason to think he’s better than the rest of the world.”

John blinked. Mycroft had actually gotten the job? Well, good on him. But shit... That meant he was going to have to be sneakier about getting Sherlock to shut the hell up. Well, not sneakier but his comebacks were going to have to get better. Stupid Sherlock probably had spent all damn summer thinking of ways to irritate the school populace. That and now they had a locker next to each other? That wasn’t going over so well in John’s mind but he loved irritating the bastard so he wouldn’t change it.

They chatted together as John tried to ignore the striking eyes that had pinned him to place for a quick moment. Or the long fingers on those hands. Swallowing thick, he chatted his mates up before the bell for first class rang.

John didn’t see Sherlock until PE last period. The boy was typical and refused to do most things, telling the teacher he was above most mundane things. John snorted loud enough to get even a look from the teacher and they were forced to be partners.

“Way to go.” Sherlock hissed, grabbing the Medicine Ball and shouldering it to John.

“Yeah.. Whatever.” They played rough with each other through the whole period, even going so far as John throwing the Ball so hard once that it knocked Sherlock clear on his ass. He refused to help Sherlock up, not allowing their skin to touch, and snatched the Ball and backbedaled away. The teacher watched and pulled John to the side, telling him that he was to go help Sherlock up. The bell rang and John waved a hand but the teacher was persistent.

Almost stomping like a kid, John brought the Medicine Ball with him, huffing the whole way to Sherlock who slapped his hand away when given, and got up by himself.

“You don’t need to be such an ass.” Sherlock snapped and John shoved the Ball into Sherlock’s chest, knocking his lungs empty with a grunt.

“Sure I don’t.” John huffed, letting the Ball go and Sherlock didn’t catch it though it was planted firmly on his chest. The thing dropped and as John went to step. He tripped on it, the ball stupidly heavy, what was the point of these damn things, and shot a hand out, grabbing Sherlock around the front of the shirt. John dropped to his knees, pulling Sherlock with him, a pained grunt as they both hit the ground.

John shoved Sherlock away from him, sneering in his direction and the darker haired boy shoved the other.

“Keep to your own space, stop fondling me.”

“I am not fondling you!” John shoved back with one hand, rising up so he was just on his knees and Sherlock did the same, grabbing up the ball and throwing it at John. The boy, more athletic, caught it without falling and shoved it back. The heavy ball missed, as Sherlock spun out of its path and rolled away. With fire in his eyes, Sherlock turned back around and glared John down.

“What would more mummy think if she found you scrabbling with me?” He said coyly and John paused a moment, not believing he’d gone there.

“Are you really pulling your status into this?” John reeled back as Sherlock slipped closer, a sneer on his face.

“This has nothing to do with my brother, Johnny.”

“No,it’s got all to do with the ego inside of you that’s bigger than England.”

“My ego is...”

“Yes it is!” John leaned back, fingers digging into grass. “It’s always been about your poor little ego. Poor little Sherlock and his hurt little feelings and his...” Sherlock tackled John mid-sentence and they sprawled into the grass. They wrestled a bit before John had the teen pinned under him.

“Get off.” Sherlock hissed the words and John smirked down at him.

“Make me, skinny twig.”

“John!” Sherlock wiggled but John had a rather good hold on him. He didn’t let him go, either.

“You’ve got nothing to back up that ego of yours anyway!” John stated, sitting back and pausing. The look on his face falls the same moment Sherlock’s brilliant eyes shoot to John’s. For a moment they just sit there. There’s a definite bump pushing up against John’s rear and he licks his lips.

“John....” Sherlock starts but John shakes his head. He leans down and brings his face up to Sherlock’s who is about as red as a cherry.

John runs through everything in his mind, every fight they've ever had and he blushes. God, but he loved rowing with this boy. He liked having the hatred between them but he had to admit that there had always been an underlined something under all the fighting. There wasn't even a reason, at least on John's side, to hate Sherlock so much. Or maybe, this was his reason. He had Sherlock pinned under him and his mind went straight down into the gutter where the bump to his rear waltzed around out in the open. He took in a short breath, trying to steady himself.

Without a word, John presses his lips to Sherlock’s and a heartbeat passes between them, John’s eyes slipping closed. The thought that the next gym class would be out any minute, god they’ve been out here for forever, has him pulling back. Glancing down, he sees Sherlock more than a bit stunned, eyes wide, lips plush.

John releases his hold and it seems to awaken Sherlock a bit for his eyes go to John’s and they don’t say a word but rather a small smile flits across Sherlock’s face and John nods and helps the boy to his feet and together, without touching because someone might see, they head back to the school.


	6. Beginning of the year Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have to interview each other in the beginning of the year and John doesn't react like other kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “we have that stupid class assignment at the beginning of the year where you interview your class partner and you look like you want to kill me and everyone else in the room” au

John shifts in his chair, looking more than a tad bit uncomfortable. They had this silly assignment like they do every year where you had to talk to someone new and it just so happened that John was stuck with the strange kid that normally sat in the back and made a lot of irritating noises during the school year. The kid often left in the middle of class, too, and was not known for his attendance or even coming back after leaving.

Currently, those quicksilver eyes were glued onto John with an expression that John was sure could ripen bananas.

“So.. You...” John tried to start, getting a rising eyebrow on the older boys face. He cleared his throat, glancing at other groups and wiggling his pencil in his hand. He had to do this, had to get through this. Sighing, he opened his mouth to try again.

“You spent the summer outside, with friends. Probably playing sports in the overgrown fields on the outskirts of town. The bruises showing are more from tackles or rough housing rather than an abusive family, and your mentality doesn’t suggest you’re getting hit at home so it has to be recreational. Not to mention the tan. But you didn’t get new shoes, you have the same ones on you had last year. Probably longer, going by how worn they are. Your clothes are worn, too, so I suppose you didn’t go shopping for new ones like most kids do in the beginning of the year. And there’s circles under your eyes so you must have been excited for school, or nervous about starting a new year like most others are but the circles aren’t deep so it’s only one or two nights you’ve been thinking about it otherwise you’ve slept in most days.” Sherlock closed his mouth finally and John, his own mouth on the floor, snapped back up. Sherlock looked over at the other kids, giving them a glance, before looking back at John.

“Wow.. That... Wow.” John sat back in his chair, placing his pencil on the desk under his hand. Everything had been pinged right, except. “Well, I’ve had these shoes for about a year... Actually. I just move around a lot. Wear them out easily.” He wiggles his toes in the shoes and Sherlock nods.

“There’s always something. You really liked that?”

“It was fantastic.”

“Not a lot of people think so.”

"What do a lot of other people think?"

"Most of them tell me to piss off... or I get hit."

“Shame on them.” John said, smiling from ear to ear and Sherlock shyly gave a smile back, eyes a little less filled with violence.

“Okay... Your turn.” Sherlock smirked at the horrified look on John’s face.


	7. Stag Night Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock planned the Stag Night out to a perfection. But what he didn't plan on was his loose tongue spilling how he felt about John all over the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock au: Sherlock confesses his love during the stag night.

Everything was planned to the last, most beautiful detail just like most of Sherlock’s life. He was drunk, John was drunk and they were back at the flat, doing... Something with sticky notes. He couldn’t quite remember getting to this place and his giggle fit died off somewhere after realizing there was no King of England. That and he wasn’t it. He should be.

“I should be King of England.”

“You’re too pompous.” John snorted, leaning back and swirling the whiskey in his glass. Oh dear. The world spun in front of Sherlock and he sank deeper into the chair.

“The King of England should be a pompous ass.” He remarked coolly, leaning forward and giving a level look, as level as a drunk man can, to his best mate. He caught the look in John’s eyes and smiled, a lopsided facial expression that probably looked more ridiculous than it felt but he didn’t mind. This man was the most... Handsome, beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

“You’d fit right in, then, I’d imagine.” John slurred, leaning forward and pressing a hand to Sherlock’s leg. He stared upwards and both of them shrugged.

John looked so amazing in this light, so glorious. Nothing could possibly go wrong... Aside from the fact that he was about to get married. Sherlock reached forward and snatched John’s hand, putting it back on his leg. John smiled and kept it there.

He was so “...Perfect and right for me, John. It was always you. You keep me right.” He is unaware he says these things until John straightens and levels a look at him. Sherlock is smiling a crooked smile, unawares, as John gets a little bit more sober.

“Sherlock?” He slips his hand off the detectives leg and Sherlock snatches it back.

“Keep it there, it’s nice and warm.”

“You just said...”

“Hm?” Sherlock swirls his drink in the glass, raising a brow as his brain slowly climbs back up enough to realize what he said. John gives him a look that, even drunk, tells the detective what he needs to know. “Oh...”

There is a silence as Sherlock doesn’t let go of John’s hand and then he takes in a deep breath.

“Well, why not me, John? Not like I haven’t noticed since day one...”

“Noticed?” John leaned closer, face scrunching in confusion and Sherlock switched from being fully aloof in his inebriated state to coming out of it just enough to turn serious.  
“I know you’ve felt it, too. It’s not just me. Tell me it’s not just me.” The words leave his lips, the implication obvious and John’s face turns from quizzical to thoughtful and for a few moments they remain where they are, staring.

John is to be married soon. This is his stag night, and his best mate just confessed some kind of passion for him. Why not me, he had asked, and John was staring at the detective like it was the first time he’d ever actually seen him.

“Why not me, John?” He asked again, softer, and John gave a small shrug, shifting and putting his hand back on that knee, leaning forward.

“You were gone... So long, Sherlock.” John murmurs and Sherlock nods his head slowly until their face are close.

“But I’m here now, yeah?” The taller male whispers with a small slur, their lips coming together in a soft, tentative, and alive kiss. John hums a noise, pushing forward, lips opening to deepen the kiss with a moan and Sherlock opens with him.


	8. Damn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your OTP visiting a really pretty dam and Person A is like “damn.” Person B slaps Person A for that horrible pun. (I am so horribly sorrynotsorry.)

They rose from the car and paid their tickets to go up the stairs and onto the object of their desires. Smiling, John took Sherlock's hand and ascended the stairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes, huffing. He wanted nothing to do with this but John had been insistent.

 

"Just this once, Sherlock,  _please?_ " He had said and Sherlock had nearly melted.

 

Now, as their feet found the level ground once more, they padded quietly to about halfway down the dam where they leaned against the side and John looked all the way down.

 

Sherlock glanced about lazily, barely paying attention, when he heard John's intake of breath as he leaned down farther. Sherlock stared at the side of John's head and, with a snicker on his lips, whispered. "Damn."

 

John paused, eyes narrowing as he rose back to full height and looked up at Sherlock who was barely containing himself. With a  _thwack_ he struck Sherlock on the shoulder and shook his head.

 

"You wonder why I don't take you places." John murmured as Sherlock finally broke down and laughed, bending over at the waist.


End file.
